


There's No Today If There's No Tomorrow.

by FlyingWrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingWrites/pseuds/FlyingWrites
Summary: They've been fighting for days straight now.
Kudos: 1





	There's No Today If There's No Tomorrow.

They've been fighting for days straight now.

The monsters (the other monsters)  
(who's even counting in here) kept launching themselves at them, crawling at them, jumping at them from the ground they looked like harmless leaves at or as just dirt, falling on them not just from the trees and other bushes but also from relatively clear dark skies, sinking their mood as hiding in the weather, attaching to them (hooks and needles and oily something and waxy something and icy and frosty and burning and - oh hell you thought Hell was bad) and worst of all, staring at them.

Benny kept having his own with bravery and stamina.

Just biting this one, clawing at the other, beheading its cousin, gouging eyes out and then eating them of the third cousin. All is well, in this depraved lair.

Benny got to be practically Purgatory's King.

Dean on the other hand didn't feel like much of a prince.

(Princess Diana was more royal than him.)

Right now, staring into intensely yellow eyes, he felt pretty much meat.

But he couldn't stop glaring at that one.  
It reminded him of something - someone - he promised to protect, from the time his short thoughts were filled with melodies and not (run jump break chop fly, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.)

Eyes kept being the same curious staring at him and before he reached to rip out their throat (... no. Wrong. Protect neck. Always. Alive.) they vanished into the depths of Purgatory's darkness.

Shadows again inched closer and Dean doesn't care what lives in them and will mutate over this night.

In this twilight zone, it's almost the same, days blending into the nights and nights get darker.

"We should break camp for the night and call it a day, brother," Benny says after another mile of walking and something - oh fuck what even WAS that? - they tore apart.

Dean nods. Numb. He's too tired to make sense of the words and himself mute on most days.

But Benny's word is law and Benny having a plan, any plan, is good.

Benny is already on the look out for wood that will cover them best and be most cookable, also other light and durable alike to make splints from for the next time something snacks on either of them. Dean is glad he doesn't have to talk or even look talk.

Yellow Eyes.  
Brother.

Except that thought makes him feel even more exhausted than he was, and yeah, he thinks sleep for another day of fighting would be good.

Yellow is better than lost forever.  
But Dean doesn't even remember right where that stab of grief is from.

And doesn't want to let the sunray of hope in, either.

He decides to hope in the real things. Like not being woken by an ambush after two hours, but full four of good sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, yellow eyes from the darkness watch over him sleeping. From greater distance than Benny, sure, but there.

And the same yellow eyes set big spiders on fire just with the thought.

Because as far as they are concerned, Dean is Theirs (brother) (world) and some third grade monster isn't getting him.


End file.
